


Serpent Strings

by shrugheadjonesthethird



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - After College/University, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bar Owner Jughead Jones, Ed Sheeran's Galway Girl, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Inspired by Music, Light Angst, Postgrad Betty Cooper, Smut, The Southside Serpents are a band, This was supposed to be a smutshot, Violinist Betty Cooper, bughead - Freeform, but it turned into three chapters of feelings and pining and things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-01-14 12:09:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18475945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shrugheadjonesthethird/pseuds/shrugheadjonesthethird
Summary: Postgrad violinist Betty Cooper finds a job in the most unsuspecting place. But it isn't just work she finds, it's much more than that.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO and welcome to my new multi-chapter! I've been sitting on this one for a while now, a few months, just because of how some things went down on my last multi-chapter. But, what's passed is past and I am here with this triple-shot, which was supposed to be a one-shot smutty delight.
> 
> This fic was inspired by Ed Sheeran's Galway Girl. It's an excellent song. I recommend it.
> 
> Thank you to Alix and Em for being amazing betas and friends! I love you both immensely. <3

Playing the violin was one of the many after-school activities Betty’s mother signed her up for as soon as she was old enough to hold an instrument. To Betty’s surprise, it came naturally to her, more naturally than soccer ever did. She was told at a young age that she had an ear for music, a _prodigy_ one teacher had told her. Over the years, Betty found that she could play something to near perfection by listening to it only once or twice.

She continued to play through high school, even got a scholarship to college for playing, but she majored in something more Alice Cooper-approved: journalism. Betty didn’t like being told what to write and when to write it, but she sucked it up and completed her assignments diligently anyway. It made her mother happy, so she did it.

But, if she was being honest with herself, she’d be happy working in a small music shop for the rest of her life, teaching lessons to kids.

It was just after graduation when she saw an ad at a pub, McKenna’s, which she’d come to frequent during her later years of college _._

 

**Band seeking Violinist**

**Paid gigs**

**Must be available immediately**

**If interested, please call or email**

 

She read the ad over ten times before finding the courage to rip off a small strip of paper. With Fangs Fogarty’s contact information in her pocket, Betty walked into the bar to meet her friends.

It was a few days later when she finally got around to emailing Fangs. She included her name ( _but everyone calls me Betty)_ her experience playing ( _enough_ ), and her musician’s resume (because of _course_ she’d kept one her entire life).

She also went about her new post-grad routine: up and out for a jog at seven, home and showered by nine, breakfast with Veronica at ten—that the brown-eyed beauty always insisted on paying for—and then the job hunt continued for the afternoon. She was now a proud holder of a journalism degree she didn’t want to use, and a lifetime of musical experience that she _did_.

She was settling into the couch and setting up a marathon of her favorite crime documentary when her phone chimed from across the room. She got up, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge before locating her phone on the counter next to it.

_New email: FangsVox@gmail.com_

Betty pressed the notification and swiped her screen open.

_Thank you for replying to our flyer. Your resume is impressive. We’d love to have you audition. Our next gig is at the Whyte Wyrm on Friday night. We’re doing sound check before they open at 4:00pm. Meet us there, ready to play. If you’re good, you’ll start right away._

Her eyes lit up at the opportunity to play in a band. She wasn’t even sure what kind of _band_ they were, but she was _definitely_ interested. She kept scrolling until she hit the bottom of the email. The address was there, signed _Fangs Fogarty, Lead Singer/Guitar, The Southside Serpents._

 _The Southside Serpents, what a curious name for a band_ , Betty thought. She did a quick Google search for them and found that they were a rock cover band. Simple enough, she figured. She listened to a few of their tracks on YouTube; figuring their setlist wasn’t difficult and she taught herself what she could before the audition.

She was prepared with a variety of pieces that were sure to impress them, along with their usual stuff to prove she’d done her homework (she _always_ did her homework).

When Friday arrived, she took great care getting dressed. She wanted to make a good first impression; she had noticed they didn’t dress like anything special, mostly jeans and t-shirts. Even knowing this, she dressed in a black tank dress, black semi-sheer leggings and a pair of comfortable worn pink converse. She knew she’d be able to dance in it if the urge was there, which if she was being honest with herself, it usually was.

She clipped her hair back from her face and wore her makeup slightly darker than usual. She grabbed her violin case, worn and well-loved, and strapped it over her shoulder.

Betty made her way to the bar. It wasn’t terribly far from her Brooklyn apartment, only a few blocks in a direction she’d never ventured before. After a few minutes and even more wrong turns and double checking her phone for a map, she was outside the Whyte Wyrm.

The outside was unassuming—a few errant signs for various liquor brands and a neon green snake decorated one window, and a laminated flyer in the other. _Home of the Southside Serpents. Live every Friday from 9 to close. Happy hour specials subject to change._

She attempted to pull open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. The bar didn’t open until 5:00, according to the sign and it was only 2:30. The email had indicated they’d be doing their soundcheck before it opened, so she knocked.

She was about to knock again when a tall man with wavy black locks and a peculiar beanie opened the door, his hand braced on the jam. Betty looked at him carefully; her eyes swept over his frame unintentionally.

His black t-shirt clung to his torso, the cuff of the sleeve stretching around his bicep. His bare arms were covered in tattoos of all sizes and styles. The flannel around him dangled low on his hips.

The man’s eyebrow quirked up as he looked her over.

“We open at four,” the man said, attempting to close the door.

Betty swallowed quickly. “Oh, uh. I’m supposed to be meeting Fangs Fogarty here,” she said, her voice sweet, and half an octave higher than usual. She was nervous, her feet turning inward, toe circling the sidewalk in front of her.

The man opened the door and ushered her in. She fiddled with the strap of her violin case and swung it over her head, settling it on the opposite shoulder. The strap cut between her breasts, accentuating them without intention.

The man looked her over again and seemed to notice the positioning of the case. He swallowed thickly before making his way behind the bar. Betty’s eyes followed him as he took a rag from the bartop and flung it over his shoulder and began setting up. He placed a box of fruit, a cutting board, and a small knife and began to slice the garnish quickly before he spoke.

“He should be here any minute,” he said, arranging lemon slices in a small cubby of the sectioned box already containing cherries and olives.

“My name is Elizabeth. I'm supposed to audition for him,” she offered.

“Jughead Jones,” he said, “this is my bar.”

Betty looked around, her feet planted in their spot. The bar was a decent size, not big like other bars she’d been in. Against the far wall was a raised stage, and equipment already set up. There were tables along the walls, chairs still on top. The walls were painted a dark green, with vintage tin signs littering them.

“I have to say, Elizabeth, you don’t look old enough to be in a place like this. How old are you?”

“Old enough,” she said, her hands finding the strap of her case again. She liked the way he said her name, like he’d been saying it his whole life.

“Don’t make me ask for some identification,” he laughed, his teasing tone not going unnoticed.

Betty pulled the case off of her back and opened it carefully, balancing it precariously on her knee. She produced her wallet and procured her identification, handing it over to Jughead.

He examined her license, seeing that she was twenty-two and looking from the document to her face a few times before smiling.

“Well, my apologies, young lady.” He took a deep breath, seeming to stall before continuing. “I wouldn’t want to get shut down for having someone underage in here.”

“Well, fair is fair,” she said taking back her license and resecuring it in the case. “You don’t look nearly old enough to own a bar.” She stuck her hand out, palm up, waiting. She wasn’t sure where the burst of confidence had come from, but she was rolling with it.

“I am plenty old enough,” he chuckled.

She raised an eyebrow at him expectantly. She watched what she thought was a blush grace his cheeks and she bit her lip as he reached into his back pocket.

He threw his whole wallet at her. She opened it carefully, finding his license in the usual spot. _Forsythe?_ _No wonder he goes by Jughead,_ she thought. She chuckled under her breath. After some quick math, she surmised that he was twenty-eight.

“My statement still stands, Forsythe. You don’t look old enough to own a bar.” She tossed the wallet back at him and he returned it to his pocket.

“Let’s just say it’s a family business,” he said, wiping the debris on the cutting board into the trash.

Betty nibbled at her bottom lip as she watched him work. As she opened her mouth to speak again, she was cut off by the crack of metal on wood from behind her. Heavy footsteps made their way from what seemed to be a back entrance.

“Jug! Remember I got that girl comin’—” a man about her height came around the corner. He was dressed in jeans, combat boots and a plain white tee covered by a leather jacket. “Oh, sorry to interrupt. New waitress?” he said, gesturing with his thumb to Betty.

“Not exactly,” Jughead laughed.

“I’m Betty Cooper,” she offered quietly, nervous all over again.

“Oh, wow. Damn. I don’t really know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this,” he said, looking her over. “I’m Fangs.” He extended his hand out to her for a handshake.

She took it cautiously. He certainly looked like he could be the frontman of a band. She was delicate in comparison. Maybe she wouldn’t fit in with them, assuming the other band members resembled him.

“Uh, thanks?” she said, her hand falling from the shake unceremoniously to her side.

She heard the door open again, then the sound of boots against the hardwood floors. The guy who appeared was taller, much taller, with a mess of dark hair, a tattoo on his neck, and similar jeans, plain t-shirt and jacket on his frame.

 _I definitely don’t fit in here._ _Maybe this was a bad idea,_ she thought. Her eyes found the ground, staring at a knot in the wood.

“Sweets, this is the Cooper girl I was tellin’ you about,” Fangs said, clapping his hand on the taller man’s shoulder.

“Well, can she play like she claims she can?” he asked as he crossed his arms over his chest menacingly. “She’s got some big shoes to fill.”

“I don’t know, we haven’t gotten that far yet. I was waiting for you and Dag.”

With that, another leather-clad man—presumably Dag— walked into the main area of the bar. He fit in with his friends, tall, dark features and a black leather jacket atop a white t-shirt. _Maybe I missed the memo on the uniform_ , she chuckled to herself.

“Okay. Sweet Pea, Dagger, this is Betty Cooper. Betty, Sweets and Dag.” Fangs introduced.

“Lovely to meet you,” she said, her smile was instinctual after years of rearing under Alice Cooper.

“Are you ready?” Fangs asked her.

“Yeah. Just let me know what you wanna hear,” she shrugged.

“What do you have prepared?”

“Well, I have Bach, Vivaldi, Brahms,” she took a deliberate breath after naming only classical composers, learned from years of orchestra and college symphony. “Lloyd Webber, Sondheim, York, Kit, Paseck, Paul.” Another breath after her musical theater experience. She saw the light draining from their eyes as they didn’t recognize any of the names she had rattled off.

“Charlie Daniels, Florence and the Machine, Halestorm, Linkin Park, Dream Theater, The Eurythmics, The Beatles, Foo Fighters, Nirvana, Imagine Drag—”

“Damn,” Jughead whispered from behind the bar.

Betty blushed again, turning to her violin case, pulling the instrument from the maroon velvet lining. She rested it against her shoulder, plucking at the strings lightly. She twisted the tuning pegs a fraction of a hair, adjusting the pitch, a smile breaking her face when she was done.

“Any preference?” She smiled sweetly, already seeing that she had this group of men captivated.

“Dealer’s choice,” Fangs muttered, his hands planted firmly on his hips.

Betty thought for a short moment, coming up with a plan in her mind of how to transition from one thing to the next seamlessly. She hadn’t arranged anything in a while, but knew she’d be able to pull it off with ease. She was sure she could play _Mary had a Little Lamb_ and the shorter one would be impressed with her.

Betty placed the lower bout against her shoulder and placed her chin delicately on the chinrest. The bow she placed lightly on the bridge. Her fingers found the fingerboard easily, her plan coming to fruition easily in her mind.

She pulled the bow quietly across the strings one last time to ensure it was tuned properly. Betty turned her back to the men now nearly surrounding her and walked toward the stage. She stopped about halfway there and began to play, her back still to them.

She started simple, something she’d learned early on her in her lessons. She transitioned easily into a more difficult classical piece to _Bittersweet Symphony_ , and faded into her favorite Beatles songs _I’ve Just Seen a Face_ and _Eleanor Rigby._

Her toes began to tap, taking on a life of their own. Her hips soon followed as she transitioned into _Smooth Criminal._ At some point in her playing, she had turned around. Her eyes were closed as she played, only opening them to navigate the new space she was playing in. From what she could see when she did open her eyes, there were four jaws on the ground. She smirked to herself and decided to kick it up a notch.

Her hips continued on their path, her legs carrying her around the barroom floor. Her body bent backward as she played, letting herself feel the music, feeling four sets of eyes on her as she did. She should have been embarrassed. Her mother had always told her that classical musicians shouldn’t move so much.

She played the final notes of _Devil Went Down to Georgia_ in a pirouette, landing in third position. She took a deep breath and finally looked up at the other people in the room.

“Sorry, I was a little off in the middle of one of the transition, but it was off the cuff, so,” she shrugged, her eyes landing on Jughead.

“Nothing about that that was off,” Fangs insisted. “That was. Holy shit.” He looked to Sweet Pea and Dag who were still seemingly shell shocked. “Welcome to the Serpents.”

Betty beamed. “Thank you guys so much!”

She placed her violin back into its case and snapped it shut, the smile still on her face.

Jughead came walking over to her, a glass of water in his hand and offered it.

“Oh, thanks,” she smiled.

“Damn, Betty, that was something else. Seriously.”

“I was just messing around, honestly. I had no idea how that was going to come out. I made it up as I went along.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong. Bach to Brahms. Brahms to The Verve Pipe to The Beatles. Michael Jackson, then The Charlie Daniels Band?”

“That’s right. I figured it showed range and speed,” she shrugged before taking a sip of the water that Jughead had brought her. Betty was trying her best to be nonchalant, but the performance to anyone’s standard was spectacular and she knew it.

But to her own (and her mother’s) it was subpar at best. Maybe her subpar was everyone else’s gold standard. She shook the self-deprecating thoughts from her head, tuning back into what Jughead was saying.

“You blow their last violinist out of the water. Toni was alright, but nothing compared to you,” he said as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yo, Betty! Get over here, we gotta go over some stuff,” Dag called from the stage.

She smiled again at Jughead before turning to join her new bandmates at the head of the bar. Her thoughts raced. She was really in a band now. She would have to remember to tell Veronica to come out tonight to see her play.

Sweet Pea handed her a piece of paper with their setlist mapped out on it. She didn’t recognize some of the songs.

“Is this okay with you?”

“I don’t know a few of these. How long do I have to learn them?”

“A few hours,” Dag laughed. She could tell that he didn’t think she’d be able to do it.

“That should be fine,” Betty said easily. She knew she had the ability to listen a few times and have it down with only a few practices.

“Good luck,” Sweet Pea scoffed.

She walked back over to her case, pulling out her phone and a pair of headphones.

Jughead frowned. “Don’t worry too much about Sweets. He’s just pissed that Fangs fired Toni. They’ve been best friends since they were kids.”

“Why’d he fire her, if you don’t mind me asking?” She asked quietly.

“She no-showed a few gigs, and when she did actually show, she wasn’t able to play. She’s been in a pretty bad place since her girl broke up with her.”

“Gotcha,” Betty nodded in understanding.

Just as Betty was about to queue up the songs she was unfamiliar with, Sweet Pea started practicing his drums. It frustrated Betty. She needed relative silence to hear the song and come up with a plan.

She grumbled to herself about it. She placed her palms over her ears, wedging the buds further in, as if it would help her hear the music better. She huffed louder than she intended to.

“He’s doing it on purpose,” he offered, accidentally startling Betty. “He’s being a spiteful jackass. Sweets doesn’t do well with change.”

Betty scowled, looking over to the stage, seeing Sweet Pea with a shit-eating grin on his face. She threw her head back as she pulled the wires from her ears.

“I think I’m just going to go home and learn these. It’s only a fifteen minute walk. I’ll be back in a little while,” she planned out loud to herself. She stood to gather her stuff when Jughead’s hand reached out and grabbed her wrist.

She looked up at him slowly. She was sure once he moved his hand, his finger marks would be branded into her skin. Her wrist was cold once he dropped his grasp.

She watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed, swallowing whatever he was going to say. She went to gather her things again when he finally spoke.

“You... uh. Don’t have to go home to practice,” he offered. He took the beanie from his head and ran his long dexterous fingers through his ink black locks.

“It’s too loud to concentrate here,” she reasoned. _Was it getting hot in the bar, or is it just me?_ She thought to herself, feeling Jughead’s eyes burn into her.

“My office is soundproof,” he said by way of explanation. “It’ll be plenty quiet in there for you to do what you have to do. As long as you don’t mind that I might be going in and out getting ready to open.”

“Really? You’ve just met me and you trust me to be in your office?”

“You’ve got a trustworthy face,” he winked at her. “Offers there if you want it.”

“Yes, please. That would be very helpful.”

He led her back to his office and unlocked the door. It wasn’t very big, but it seemed to be everything it needed to be. The antique mahogany desk sat against the far wall with a few chairs scattered about and a small separate sitting area.

“Make yourself at home,” Jughead said, sitting at his desk. “I have to do some paperwork, so I’ll be in here. You’re sure that’s okay?”

“Perfectly fine, as long as you don’t mind that I’ll most likely be talking to myself,” she admitted.

“I could listen to you talk all day,” he muttered under his breath and he opened his laptop. She watched Jughead for a few more moments before putting her headphones back in to concentrate on learning the songs.

After she listened to the songs a few times each, she picked up her violin.

She played along with the track, able to hear herself and the music without an issue. She repeated the process a few times until she knew she had it down. On the last track, without even realizing it, she was harmonizing with the vocalist on the video. She opened her eyes to find Jughead looking up from his laptop with wide eyes. _Fuck._ He watched as her hips swayed gently and her fingers moved deftly over the strings. Her voice was delicate, she was sure she had impressed him simply by the look on his face.

She was a quick study, always had been. She knew it would piss off Sweet Pea that she was able to learn and nearly perfect the songs he’d surely chosen to throw her off her game. She finished with an hour to spare. She was proud of herself. She was able to learn these songs quickly and efficiently thanks to Jughead’s hospitality.

Betty was about to leave Jughead’s office when she turned around and walked toward the desk. He was closing his laptop when he looked up to see her standing there.

“Thanks for letting me practice in here,” she said sweetly. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek in thanks. When she leaned back, her teeth had sunken into her lower lip.

She was attracted to Jughead, absolutely. How could anyone not be? He was handsome, generous, kind, and she deduced that only after a few hours. She had spent more time looking at him than she’d care to admit, but she wasn’t at all ashamed.

His eyes met hers, her heart beating faster than it had any right to. He smirked and she was sure he noticed the pink of her cheeks that hadn’t been there moments before.

“Anytime,” he said, reaching out to her hand that was pressed against his desktop.

She was flustered by the contact. She could feel her heart beat faster still, her palms going slick, and her mouth drying up. _How on Earth?_ She thought. She hadn’t felt anything for any man since she had broken up with her high school sweetheart, Trev, nearly two years ago.

It wasn’t that it was _bad_ to be feeling these things again, it was just so terribly unexpected.

“I should, uh... I should get back out there,” she said, turning away from him, back toward the door.

She heard Jughead hop up and follow her out of the office.

“Well, look who’s back,” Sweet Pea snarked as Betty walked toward the stage.

She stayed silent and let her fellow Serpents take the lead. Fangs picked up his guitar, Sweet Pea sat behind the drum kit and Dag waited at the keyboard. There was a second guitar sitting in a cradle. At the last minute, Dag changed his mind and picked it up, abandoning the keyboard.

Sweet Pea tapped his stick against the snare three times, cluing Betty into what song they were jumping into. She was getting the distinct impression that Sweet Pea wanted to see her flounder, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

The three beats were the only lead up she had until she had to begin playing. All things considered, it wasn’t a terribly difficult song to learn, but it was still new to her. However, she was determined to make her place in the band.

It was just drums and violin for the first few bars before the guitars kicked in. Fangs grabbed the microphone in front of him and began singing.

“He wakes up in the morning, does his teeth, bite to eat and he's rolling. Never changes a thing. The week ends the week begins. She thinks, we look at each other wondering what the other is thinking, but we never say a thing and these crimes between us grow deeper.”

They continue until the song ends. Betty flexes her fingers in and out. She wasn’t used to playing this much at a time anymore, but she wasn’t letting it stop her. She glanced back at Sweet Pea, whose scowl grew meaner. She smiled saccharine sweet toward him.

“Problem, Sweets?” She fluttered her eyelashes at him.

He gritted his teeth. “Nope. Not one,” he looked like he wanted to say something else, but he bit his tongue until he finally said, “that was good. Welcome aboard.”

She bowed her head in thanks.

“Alright, solid!” Fangs exclaimed. “Betty, we play here every Friday night nine to close. Does that work for you?”

“Yeah, that’s not a problem.”

“Sometimes we take other gigs, usually on a Thursday or Saturday, but we’ll know pretty well in advance, so it shouldn’t take too much time from you and your boyfriend.”

Betty looked at him curiously, head cocked to the side.

“Who said I had a boyfriend?”

Fangs smirked. “I just assumed. You’re a beautiful girl, clearly talented. I just figured you’d be off the market.” His eyes swept over her body again.

“Thanks, but no. No boyfriend for quite some time now.”

It seemed the topic of conversation had gotten Jughead’s attention. She looked up and their eyes locked immediately. She could see the smirk on his lips from across the room and blushed again.

They had some time until their set was to begin. They’d play a few songs, take a decent break, then continue on and off until the bar closed.

She sat at the edge of the bar with her glass of water as she watched patrons fill the space slowly, but steadily. By the time it came for her to play, there were a good amount of people waiting for them to begin. She had texted Veronica the address and time of the gig. Betty never got a response, but she hoped she would be able to make it last minute.

It seemed the Southside Serpents had a good following. She wondered what they would think of her as a new addition to the band. Fangs came up behind her and clapped his hands on her shoulders.

“You ready, lady?” He asked her, a giant smile on his face.

“As ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s just say this is no recital in the auditorium of the high school back where I’m from.” She shook out her hands nervously and got up, bringing her water glass with her.

The band made their way to the stage and got themselves situated. Fangs approached his microphone.

“Hey, everyone! Thanks for comin’ out to see us. How many of you have never seen us play before?”

A small group of people toward the back cheered.

“Welcome!” Fangs greeted. “Now, before we start. I want to introduce you guys to our newest Serpent.” He gestured to Betty. “This is Betty. Let’s give her a nice Wyrm welcome, shall we?”

The crowd erupted in hoots and hollers, a few whistles and vast applause. She waved nervously, searching the crowd for a familiar face to ground her. She found Jughead behind the bar and kept her focus on him.

The first portion of the set went well. It didn’t seem like anyone noticed her missteps, and if they did, they didn’t say anything to her. The break they had was substantial, and their subsequent sets went better than the first.

At the end of the night, they played their last notes and took a final bow. Last call had been announced just before their last set and the patrons were settling their tabs when Betty walked back to the bar to get another glass of water.

Jughead had seen her coming, having it ready for her when she sat down. He smiled at her and was about to speak when he was cut off.

“You’re new ‘round these parts, dollface,” a very inebriated man said a few inches too close to Betty’s face.

She tried her best to ignore the man and turned back to Jughead, her straw pinched between her teeth.

“Hey,” the man said, grabbing her wrist. “I’m talkin’ to you, girl.”

“That’s enough, Tall Boy!” Jughead just about shouted at him. “Settle up and get out.”

Tall Boy opened his mouth to speak again, but the fury behind Jughead’s eyes shut him up and the thought died on his tongue. Jughead motioned his head to the side, indicating the door and Tall Boy kicked over the bar stool and bounded out.

Betty looked at Jughead curiously. She wasn’t sure what to feel in that moment: slightly violated, relieved. She was confused as to why Jughead would react that way. Maybe that’s how he was with all of his patrons. As a bar owner, she was sure she had seen his fair share of that behavior.

“You alright?” Jughead asked, touching his fingers gently to where Tall Boy had grabbed her.

“Yeah,” she said, breathier than she was expecting. She scolded herself internally. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

Jughead’s fingers lingered on her wrist, making small circles across the pink skin. Betty tried to ignore the fluttering in her chest and the coil in her stomach.

“Um... can I get back into your office?”

Jughead cocked his head to the side, curiosity written all over his face.

“My case is in there. I’m going to head home.”

Jughead nodded and made his way out from behind the bar and let her into the locked office. Betty grabbed her case, checking to make sure all of her things were still nestled inside of it before placing the violin and bow back into their spots. She latched it closed and settled it onto her back, just as she had when she arrived.

“I, uh... I should get going. It’s a fifteen minute walk home from here,” she shrugged, heading to the door.

“Betty, it’s after four in the morning. You’re not seriously about to walk home, are you?”

“That was the plan. How else do you suggest I get there?” She laughed under her breath.

She was tired. If she had known how draining her first gig was going to be, she’d have driven the short distance.

“I could,” he cleared his throat, “give you a ride.”

She stared at him blankly.

“Or walk you home?” His hand found the back of his neck.

“Oh. You... you don’t have to do that. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“Humor me?” Jughead asked. His tone was serious, almost commanding. Betty could see the concern when their eyes met. Maybe he had a point.

“Fine,” Betty acquiesced, “but it’s under strict protest,” she added to lighten the mood, crossing her arms over her chest.

Jughead laughed and arranged a few things on his desk before grabbing his leather jacket from the back of his chair, and snagging the helmet from its cubby on his bookshelf. He stretched out the hand holding the helmet to her. She quirked an eyebrow up at him.

“Do you want a ride home or not?” He shook the helmet out in front of her again.

She nodded, grabbing it and tucking it against her hip. He led the way out of the bar, shutting off the lights and making sure the doors were locked before exiting through the backdoor.

To the right sat a motorcycle, a helmet already secured to the side, a small crown etched into the front of it. She watched him strap it to his head as she hung back. Jughead looked back to see her still a few paces away fidgeting with the helmet in her hands.

“It won’t bite,” Jughead said, waving her to him.

Betty slowly made her way to him. “I’ve never been on a motorcycle before.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. You’ll be fine, just swing your leg over and hang on tight.”

The prospect of holding onto him brought a not all that unwelcome feeling low in her abdomen. Even the prospect of just getting more time with him outside the bar wasn’t even all that unappealing. If she could work up the nerve, maybe she’d ask him upstairs for a nightcap, or morning-cap?

She simply nodded and straddled the bike behind him, slowly coiling her arms around his waist, giving a small squeeze telling him that she was ready. She let him know how to get to her apartment and off they went.

It was something entirely different, feeling the wind against her skin, and the heat radiating off of Jughead, seeping into her chest. She wasn’t sure if it was the thrill of being on the back of a motorcycle, the adrenaline from her first gig, or _Jughead_ that was making her heart race as fast as it was. She hoped he couldn’t feel it.

Sooner than she would’ve liked, they arrived back at her apartment. He cut the engine and pulled off his helmet, lifting his leg over and offering his hand to help her off. Once she was settled on the sidewalk, he unfastened the helmet for her and attached it back to the bike.

“Thanks for the ride,” Betty said, a small blush creeping up her cheeks. “I guess I’ll see you next Friday then?”

“Unless I see you before that.”

“Yeah, unless I see you before that. Goodnight, Jughead. Thanks again.” Betty went to turn away from him to scamper up the steps to her front door.

She sat on his offer for a while. Before she knew it it was Friday night again and she showed up early, as she had the week before. She liked being in the bar when it was empty. Well, she liked watching Jughead prep the bar before opening, she should say. He looked at home behind the bar.

Every so often, he’d look up at her and wink or smile, increasing the flutter in her stomach. She tried to flirt with him when she had the chance, and it seemed to work. It wasn’t too long before he was finding excuses to touch her—a graze of his fingers on her arm, his hand on her lower back. Whenever she looked for him from up on stage, he was already watching her.

His eyes on her put an extra spring in her step and made her cheeks red, but it went unnoticed thanks to the overhead lights and constant movement. She was packing up her case after the performance when he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Betty, wait. Maybe… you would wanna stop by the bar... not on a show night?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome back for Chapter Two! I've loved seeing what you guys think of this so far! 
> 
> As always, thank you to Alix and Em for being rockstars.
> 
> Things get a little more _cough_ adult in this chapter.

Betty decided to take Jughead up on his offer of swinging by the bar in a non-professional capacity. She had tried to deny her attraction to him, but every time, she came up short. She wanted to know more about him, learn him, spend time with him.

When she got herself dressed to leave to head to the Whyte Wyrm, she thought carefully. She wanted to impress him but also didn’t want a repeat of what happened with Tall Boy her first night at the bar. 

It was warm out now, but when the sun fell past the horizon, it was sure to cool down. She pulled on denim capris and paired it with a summery floral tank top. She slipped on her trusty pair of converse and tied her hair back into her usual ponytail, if only to keep it from sticking to her neck. She was careful to apply only a light coat of mascara with just enough eyeliner to make her green eyes pop. 

Betty gathered the essentials, placed them into a small purse and set off. She purposely walked—maybe Jughead would offer to drive her home again. It was presumptuous of her but she was hoping for more time. Maybe this time she’d have the courage to ask him upstairs. 

She stopped in front of the bar and took a deep breath before she pulled on the heavy wooden door. Immediately, she recognized a few people from the gig on Friday night, figuring they must be regulars. She took a seat at the far end of the bar and waited. 

She didn’t recognize the bartender working that night and he wasn’t nearly as handsome as Jughead. She asked for a Manhattan and continued to wait. She’d been waiting for almost an hour when she was ready to give up and go home for the night. She internally berated herself for thinking he’d be waiting around for her. Someone like him would have moved on. Betty didn’t think she was anything special; she didn’t expect Jughead to think anything different.

She took the last sip of her drink and was about to push herself off the barstool when she felt a presence behind her. She closed her eyes, trying to calm her nerves, convincing herself it was another patron just wanting a drink.

“Leaving so soon?” a familiar voice breathed in her ear. 

A small smile crept onto her lips as she turned around to face Jughead.

“I’ve been here a while. It’s a great place to people watch. I was just going to step out for some air,” she lied.

“Mind if I join you?” Jughead asked.  His eyes were clear, the brightest blue she’d seen in them yet. She wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the light or his own coming through, but there was something there--maybe a desperate plea or a longing that she’d say yes. Whatever it was, she could only call it hope.  His eyes swirled with what appeared to be hope.

Betty smiled, and unable to find the right words, she simply nodded before facing the front door again.

Jughead placed his hand on the small of her back and led her out. She could feel it burning through her shirt—maybe she wasn’t imagining it after all. She remembered their chaste touches from days prior. It was intense, she recalled, sudden and not altogether unwelcome. 

She turned around and placed her back on the graffitied brick exterior of the bar, taking a deeper than usual breath. Jughead placed himself next to her, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off of him. He nudged her shoulder playfully.

“You didn’t just want fresh air, did you?”

Betty turned to look at him. She regarded him carefully, afraid he’d be able to see it in her eyes—her real reason for walking fifteen minutes to the shadier part of town to the bar she  _ kind of, sort of _ worked in. She opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off.

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here,” he looked straight ahead again, “I was wondering if I’d see you before Friday.”

Betty watched as he picked at the skin around his fingers. He was nervous, why she wasn’t sure. He let his hands drop and hit against the brick, waiting for her to respond.

“I was about to go home,” she eventually admitted. “I didn’t see you, so I figured you weren’t here.” Her voice was small, laden with confession and anxiety.

He chuckled. “I’m always here. I live upstairs,” he said, gesturing to a row of windows above them that she couldn’t see without turning around. She nodded in understanding and blushed. “If I’d known you were here, I would have come out of hiding sooner.”

“Next time, I’ll send a carrier pigeon,” she retorted.

“So, you’re saying there will be a next time?” He turned to smile at her, a pink tint high on his cheeks.

“We’ll see,” she chided, bumping his shoulder in return. 

“How about a game of darts?” he suggested. “If I win, we go on a date. If I lose, well, then you decide my fate.”

“A date, huh?” It was Betty’s turn to blush incredulously.  _ Why on earth would someone as beautiful and successful as Jughead want a date with me _ ? 

“Only if I win. What do you say?” He stuck out his hand for her to shake, to solidify the deal. “For the record, I’m pretty terrible at darts, so you’ll probably win anyway.”

She took him in skeptically but shook his hand regardless. If this was going to be her way to spend more time with Jughead than she was going to take it. She wasn’t about to tell him that she’d gotten relatively decent at darts over her college years.

“You’re on,” she smiled. 

They walked back into the bar and made their way to the far corner where the dartboard was situated next to an old jukebox and a few high top tables. Jughead opened the board and gathered the darts, walking back to Betty and offering her a choice of color—blue or red. She chose blue and gathered the darts in her hand, putting her hands behind her back, letting Jughead go first.

They alternated turns, each keeping score for the other. Betty reached zero before Jughead could, thus winning the game. Betty watched Jughead’s shoulders slouch, clearly disappointed in his loss.

“I know you said you weren’t very good, Jughead, but that was...something else,” Betty teased.

He shrugged. “You won,” he said, trying to be gracious, “choose my fate.”

Betty leaned on one hip, popping the other out and crossed her arms across her chest pretending to think. She already knew what she wanted it to be, had known before they even started playing. 

“Can it be another wager?” Her eyebrow flicked up curiously. 

He looked at her, confused. 

“I won, so I want you to play a game of pool with me. Whoever wins picks where we go on our date.” 

“Wait. What? But, I lost. You don’t have to go on a date with me.”

“But I want to.”

She walked away from him, toward the pool table on the other end of the bar, which mercifully, no one was occupying. She turned back to see if he was behind her, finding him rooted to his spot, jaw slack and eyes wide. It took him a minute to process, but he was next to her as soon as he did. 

She set to rack the balls, hands deftly picking up the spheres and placing them in their correct order within the triangle. She lined them up and removed the plastic, hanging it back on its hook. 

“You break,” she said, leaning against her cue. She had a plan—she wasn’t attempting to distract him on purpose, but seeing how he looked at her empowered her. 

She would wiggle her hips a little bit more than necessary when she lined up the shot, brush past him even when there was plenty of room. She felt sexy when he looked at her, more than she had in years. She had felt it Friday night when she caught him staring at her while she played with the band. She liked having his eyes on her and she realized that she might do anything to keep them there. 

They were tied—one ball left each and the eight ball still on the table. Jughead missed his last ball, leaving Betty open to win. Again.

She did. She sank the last ball effortlessly, followed by the eight ball. She placed the cue on the green felt and smiled at him. 

“Good game,” she offered him. She reached for her glass at the nearest high top and took a long sip from the straw.

Jughead placed his cue carefully next to hers and leaned against the table, his palms flat against the polished wood bracketing the scratched plastic pockets. 

“You know you don’t have to actually honor that bet, right?”

Betty looked at him carefully from his scuffed black boots to his worn gray beanie and everything in between. His black t-shirt clung to his body, and his blue flannel dangled from his hips. She knew there was no implemented uniform at the bar, so it must have just been how he dressed, recalling the similar outfit from the last few times she’d seen him.

He certainly didn’t  _ look _ like he owned the bar, but who was she to judge? She didn’t look like a classically trained violinist who played in a rock band, that was for sure.

She looked around the room, noticing their relative privacy considering the large, open space and took a small step forward. She wasn’t sure what she was doing, but she let her body guide her and she didn’t stop until she was toe to toe with him.

“I said I wanted to,” she said, her voice quiet again—much different than the chiding tone she’d taken while they were playing the game.

She wasn’t sure where her bravery had come from, but she grabbed the hanging sleeves at his waist and hoisted herself onto her tiptoes. Before her mind could catch up with her, she pressed her lips to his, hoping to God she was reading the situation correctly.

It took Jughead a moment to realize what was happening, but when he did, he followed her lead. He planted his hands at her waist and pulled her closer into him, and she smiled against his lips.

What started as something innocent quickly turned heated. Her lips parted as she took a breath, but they were quickly back to his before he could say anything. Her tongue swept his bottom lip once, twice before he finally opened to receive her into his mouth. 

Their tongues were tentative at first. She was thinking too much about it. One of Jughead’s hands snaked from her waist, up her back, and to the nape of her neck, holding her in place as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. 

Betty’s mind went blank as she absorbed the feeling of his arms around her. His fingers pawed at her waist, gripping her tight. The hand at her neck massaged carefully, thumb stroking her jaw and fingers entangling into the base of her ponytail. His tongue flicked against hers and she couldn’t stop the gentle moan that emanated from her throat. 

“Get a room!” she heard someone yell from across the bar. It was enough to snap her from the emptiness of her thoughts and bring her back to the hustle and bustle of their surroundings.

She pulled back from him, eyes still closed, cheeks red and lips chapped. As her eyes fluttered open, she noticed that Jughead’s hands hadn’t moved. They held onto her firmly like if he let go, she’d float away or disappear.

His pupils were blown wide, his bright blue irises nearly vanished in the eclipse of his pupils. He swallowed thick and took a deep breath in. They stood there, still entirely too close than was considered appropriate for public consumption, but neither of them could find it in themselves to care. 

“Sorry,” Betty breathed. 

“Why? Why on earth would you be sorry?” 

She laughed lightly, his words easing her mind. Maybe she didn’t need to be sorry, maybe he really was attracted to her just as much as she was to him. 

“I didn’t think that would have been appropriate to have done when I met you,” he confessed. “I wanted to though.”

Betty took a small step back and Jughead’s hand detached from her neck to settle instead at her waist. 

_ Why?  _ She looked at him again, confusion painting her face, her cheeks burning up to her ears. She couldn’t find the words, her mouth forming an ‘oh’ shape as her only response. Jughead leaned forward then, so his mouth brushed her ear.

“Do you maybe want to go someplace quiet... to talk?”

Betty nodded before she could think, her groin making the decision for her. 

Jughead took her by the hand and led her toward the back of the bar. They passed his office door and turned up a rickety metal staircase. Betty counted the stairs as she climbed them, using it as a way to calm her racing heart and even faster thoughts.  _ 36. _ Three flights.

Jughead pulled a set of keys from his front pocket and easily unlocked his apartment door. He held the door open for her and guided her in with his hand on her lower back. 

She stood quietly with her feet pointed in, rocking from heel to toe and back again. He took her bag and placed it on the kitchen counter before grabbing two bottles of water from the fridge. He offered one to her and she smiled her thanks.

Betty looked around the space. Everything was dark—the lighting, the wood of the furniture, even the photos on the wall were black and white. It suited him. His couch seemed well worn and comfortable. The kitchen was small from what she could tell rooted in her spot but big enough to be functional.

Jughead walked past her and plopped himself on the couch. He threw his legs up in front of him to perch on the coffee table. He motioned for her to join him and she took a few tentative steps toward him.

When she reached the couch, she slipped off her shoes and sat on the opposite end, bringing her knees to her chest. Her shyness was seeping back through the sheer confidence she had exhibited earlier. 

Jughead reached out his arm and pulled her toward him. In what was the most ungraceful move she’d ever done, she’d toppled over, her head landing on his thigh, but he didn’t seem to care. 

His fingers ran through her ponytail and across her shoulders. She could feel her eyes getting heavy. She was relaxed, content laying there with him in relative silence. 

“So,” Betty started, her fingers lazily grazing just below his knee, “you said you wanted to talk?”

Jughead shifted slightly in his spot on the couch. “Tell me more about you,” he said. 

“Elizabeth Cooper. Twenty-two years old. I just graduated from NYU with a degree I don’t want.” She paused, not sure if this was what he meant by his request.

“What degree is it and why didn’t you want it?”

No one had ever asked her that before. 

“I went through the accelerated Master’s program for Journalism. I  _ hated _ it. I only did it because it’s what my mother wanted. She can be—” she stopped to breathe, to think carefully about the words she chose next, “—persuasive.”

“And what did you want to do?”

“Guess.”

“Would saying music be too obvious?”

She laughed. “Yes, but you’d be right. My mom didn’t think it would be stable enough to make a career out of. She wanted me to follow in her footsteps, move back home and take over the paper.” Betty shook her head. “But, I never wanted that.”

“Why not?”

“Once I left, I knew I’d never want to go back. Let’s just say my mother is more often than not referred to as a dragon.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “Where was home before Brooklyn?”

“You’ve probably never heard of it.” 

Jughead tugged at the end of her ponytail as if to say  _ try me _ . 

“Riverdale. It’s maybe forty minutes away.”

“You have to pass through to get to Bear Mountain, right?”

“Right,” she nodded, a small smile on her lips. “It wasn’t all bad, though. Yeah, it’s small and everyone knows everyone, but there are a few places that I miss.”

“Like?”

“It doesn’t matter, I’ll probably never go back.”

“Humor me?”

Betty sighed. He wouldn’t know these places if they bit him in the ass, so what was the harm? 

“Pop’s, the clearing by Sweetwater River, Archie’s basement,” she laughed to herself.

Betty felt him shift again. She went to sit up, but he assured her that she was fine where she was. 

“What is a Pop’s?” 

Betty laughed, a full boisterous boom she didn’t expect. “Pop’s is the diner on the edge of town. We spent a lot of time there after school.”

“We?”

“My best friends, Archie and Veronica. We all grew up together. Well, it was just me and Archie for a while, but then V moved to town and it's been the three of us ever since. They moved here for school, too, but Veronica refused to live anywhere but Manhattan. I guess when you’re a Lodge, you don’t have to worry too much about making rent and paying tuition.”

It was Jughead’s turn to laugh. 

“Sorry, that was mean. She’s my best friend, I love her, but sometimes she can be a little... much.”

“Sounds like Sweet Pea. I’ve known him nearly my entire life, and as you’ve very well seen, he can be a lot to handle. He’s more stubborn than anything.”

“So I’ve come to realize.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Did you grow up here?”

“Toledo, Ohio. My dad lived out here, so when my mom died when I was a kid, this is where they shipped me. I still don’t think he really ever wanted me, but that’s a story for another day.”

She sat up next to him despite his protests and looked at him carefully, feeling something wash through her. It wasn’t pity or concern, but something else that she couldn’t put her finger on.

“I—” She started.

“Don’t say you’re sorry. I turned out just fine, well... mostly.”

She didn’t say anything, just looked at him when she noticed his eyes flick from her eyes to her mouth and back again. His fingers grazed at the nape of her neck, light enough to send a shiver down her spine. Her eyes snapped to his.

“I wasn't going to,” Betty said more breathlessly than she anticipated.

She slowly leaned into him. He dragged his pointer finger to just under her chin to change the trajectory of her path straight to his lips.

It started tentatively again. The slow push and pull of something new kept their pace slow and lazy. When they parted, he took a deep breath. 

She moved herself closer to him but as she did, he pulled her leg over his lap so she was straddling his hips. Her hands bracketed his head on the couch behind him. She placed her forehead on his, trying to steady herself, her breath shaky as she settled into her new position. 

He claimed her lips again, this time hungrier than before. He didn't wait to deepen their kiss, his tongue entering her parted lips. A few strokes of his tongue was all it took for her to lose her senses and she let a quiet moan slip from her throat. He grounded his feet and rolled his hips into her core as his lips attached to her ear.

She could hear his breathing labor against her skin as he moved down her neck. She tilted her head to give him better access, savoring the feel of him against her, his lips on her exposed skin, his hands at her waist directing her hips to his as she involuntarily ground down on him, and his continued assault on her neck. 

He nipped at her collarbone, his fingers digging into her hips. She threaded her fingers into his hair, sending his beanie tumbling from his head to the crevice in the couch. His hair was soft between her fingers as she gave a gentle tug to redirect his lips back to hers.

He was immovable. He continued at her neck and all she could do was squirm under the pressure. She brushed her lips against his forehead and scratched her nails up and down his biceps. He’d have to break for air eventually. 

When he did, she took advantage and reclaimed his lips, feeling the cracked skin against her pout, igniting the spark all over again. She wanted to feel his skin against hers. She was warm, despite the near-constant shiver his touch provided her. She toyed with the edge of his shirt, waiting for permission to lift it off of his shoulders to explore the unknown.

He didn’t hesitate to lift his shirt over his head, exposing the litany of tattoos and muscle hidden beneath. Betty’s eyes ran across the anatomical heart tattooed over his chest, the entwined branches of a tree on his ribs that started just above where her knee was nestled into his side. 

Her fingers traced them carefully. She’d always considered getting a tattoo, but nothing had ever screamed at her enough to warrant getting it permanently inked to her skin. She could feel his muscles contracting under her touch.

She could feel the heat in her cheeks growing hotter as he fiddled with the hem of her tank top. He looked up at her, the silent question glistening in his eyes. Betty crossed her arms in front of her and lifted her shirt, leaving her in her jeans and a pale pink bra. She tossed the shirt behind her.

Jughead’s hands ran up her waist and his thumbs stroked just under her breasts. He ran them along her back, feeling the dimples on either side of her spine, just above her pant line. He slid them down further, cupping her ass in his palms and she responded with a roll of her hips.

Betty leaned down to feel his skin on hers. Her hands were stationed at his neck, feeling his pulse against her palms. She captured his lips again.

They stayed like that a while, nipping hungrily at each other’s lips, hands venturing into uncharted territory. Jughead stood up, Betty’s legs still hitched around his waist and he walked them backward without having to break their kiss. 

They only bumped into a few pieces of furniture before they made it to his bed. He laid her down gently, untangling her fingers from his hair and detaching her legs from around his waist. He was above her, looking down on her flushed skin and half-hooded eyes. He went in for another kiss, this time bypassing her lips and starting at her neck again. 

Her hips jolted to find his as he left a trail of open-mouthed kisses down her neck, to the top of her heaving chest. His hands traced the straps of her bra before sliding them down to kiss the skin underneath.

Betty reached behind her and unclasped the hooks. When he got to the tops of her breasts, he paused. She slowly slid her arms from the straps, pulled the cups down and tossed the garment to the side. 

Jughead swallowed thickly as he gazed down at her. Betty bit her lip and waited for what he’d do.

“You can,” she breathed, in hopes that’s what he needed to continue.

He tucked his head back down to kiss her again, his hands slowly making their way to her exposed chest. He groped tentatively, and her moan reverberated through him, going straight to his groin. He tried again with the same result. 

His kisses made their way back down. He took a nipple into his mouth and swirled his tongue as he palmed the other. He popped one out of his mouth and traded for the other before continuing his trail of kisses down her torso, stopping to admire the small freckle just above her belly button. 

His fingers ran the length of her jeans, his thumbs dipped below the line of fabric to the soft skin they covered.

“Can I?” he asked, his voice husky, filled with a desire Betty didn’t even know she could elicit from someone. It certainly hadn’t been like that with her ex.

“Yes, please.” 

Jughead smirked against her stomach before kissing her again and slowly unbuttoning her jeans. He dragged the zipper down with his thumb, pulling the fabric to either side with it. 

He chuckled to himself before peeling her pants from her skin, dragging them down her legs, feeling every inch as he did. They were added to the discarded clothing on the other side of the bed.

Goosebumps erupted on her skin as he dragged his hands up her legs. He stopped as he reached her panties and she squirmed beneath him. He kissed her thighs, nipping ever so gently at the smooth expanse of skin.

Betty had never felt as she did in that moment. She wasn’t a virgin by any means, but she’d never had anyone do  _ this _ . Her ex had never really been all that keen for oral sex, so they’d never ventured into it. It made sense later when she found out he was gay.

But here, right now, Jughead was kissing at her thighs in only what she could assume was a prelude to something she’d never experienced before. It wasn’t that she didn’t want it, she did. But she was nervous. She attempted to close her legs, but his touch on her was gentle, easing her back to her original position.

His lips on her thighs was almost too much for her. Her breathing was short and her mind was a mess already and nothing had even happened yet. She swallowed thickly. She was nervous to say something to him--he was older after all and probably much more experienced than she was, having only slept with two people in her entire existence. 

“I… uh. Jug?”

“What’s up, baby?” he said, his voice muffled by her skin. 

“This is new to me. My ex, he never, um. He wasn’t a fan of this,” she said, gesturing to his head between her legs. 

“Oh,” he said, sitting up. “I don’t have to, if you don’t want.”

“I didn’t say that... I just wanted to let you know.” She covered her face. She could feel the warmth of her embarrassment on her cheeks. 

“Do you trust me?”

She nodded her head slowly. She hadn’t known him for too long, but there was something in his crystal clear blue eyes that told her that he’d never do anything to hurt her. She’d always been a good judge of character.

“You say the word and I’ll stop, okay?”

“Okay,” she said breathlessly as he leaned back down to kiss her legs again. 

He trailed kisses up and down her long tanned legs while his fingers played with the edge of her panties at her hips. He followed the lines they created against her skin to her already aching core. He rubbed at her tentatively over the cotton. 

She gasped for air, not knowing what to expect. The butterflies in her stomach erupted into full flight at the feeling of his hands on her where she wanted him. 

“You ready?”

She hummed in response, not able to fully verbalize, throwing in a nod for good measure. 

His fingers slipped under the lace and found the warmth of her. He groaned against the fabric, sending a chill through her, and her hips moved to chase the source. He kissed at where her clit would be over the garment before pushing them to the side to expose her.

He ran his fingers slowly through her folds, gathering her wetness to circle her clit experimentally. Her hips rolled in time with his motions. He blew a small puff of air against her and kissed her exposed bundle of nerves. He flicked his tongue carefully. 

Her breathing staggered, a moan dripping from her lips as he continued the slow pace he’d set for himself. His fingers returned and toyed with her entrance before he slowly pushed one in, pulling it back out and inserting two on the second go. 

“Fuu-” she gasped at the newness of it all. Sure, she’d had her own fingers inside herself, she’d had someone else’s there, too, but in tandem with the flick of his tongue, her mind went blank. There was nothing that mattered in that moment but them.

He groaned against her as her hips continued to roll against his tongue, taking what she wanted from him. 

He curled his fingers, finding a spot that took her breath away. Her hands flew to his hair in an attempt to pull him away. She knew she was close and she wasn’t sure of the protocol.

“Come for me, baby, it’s okay,” he said between licks. His finger plunged into her again, the pace now faster as his tongue swirled around her quicker, too.

She tried to stifle the moan that came tumbling from her mouth, but before she knew what was happening, her toes curled and her thighs quaked, her fingers still in his hair, pulled and tugged as pleasure overtook her. She tried to catch her breath as Jughead continued between her legs, slowing down to help her through the orgasm that ripped through her. 

When she stopped moving beneath him, he continued to look at her. He removed his fingers from her, popping them into his mouth and sucked her juices off of him. A low hum emanated from his chest as he did. 

“You alright?”

She nodded wordlessly, still unable to speak. She was floored. No one had never made her feel like that. Not her ex and not her one night stand after her break up. She tried to move her legs, but between Jughead still being between them and the fact that they felt like jelly, it wasn’t an easy feat.

Jughead climbed her body, trailing kisses along the way until he reached her mouth again. He claimed her lips gently before sliding his tongue to her lips, the taste of her lingering with every swipe. His tongue explored her mouth again languidly, his hands smoothing at her waist.

She reached for his waist, pulling at the leather of his belt. With nimble hands, she had it undone before he could stop her. 

“We don’t—if you don’t want to—”

She continued with his pants, unbuttoning them and pulling the zipper, releasing the pressure that had been building since their kiss on the couch. Betty sat up and began to tug down at his belt loops, exposing more of him. 

He helped get his boxers and the harsh denim the rest of the way off and flung them to the floor. She scooted her panties down her legs and let them fall unceremoniously to the ground as well. Betty swallowed the lump in her throat as she surveyed the newly exposed parts of Jughead.

Her lips were on his again, too consumed by her hunger to wait. She leaned him back and bracketed her knees on either side of his hips. Her lips trailed to his ear and down his neck as his hands explored anywhere and everywhere he could reach. She rolled her hips gently against his arousal, still sensitive from minutes before. The tip of his cock teased her clit and she drew a sharp breath against his lips. 

Her hands braced on his chest, one over the anatomical heart, the other at his collarbone and pushed herself up. Betty tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, shyness overtaking her. 

“If you changed your mind, it’s okay,” Jughead whispered as he leaned forward, cupping her cheek in his hand. He stroked his thumb across her face and she leaned into his touch, her breathing shaky.

“I didn’t. I’m just-” she said before taking a deep, sobering breath, “-very... overwhelmed, I guess.”

He tapped her hip gently, telling her silently to move off of him. She sat with her knees pulled in to her chest next to him as he sat up and faced her, his legs crossed, ankles under thighs. He rubbed his palm up and down her calf.

“That’s okay,” he whispered, leaning forward and placing a kiss on her shoulder. “Can I ask why?”

“I’m sure it’s not something you want to hear. I can’t imagine talking about past exploits is mood-inducing,” she chuckled humorlessly.

“No, it’s not, but clearly something is up and we should talk about it. You need to be comfortable with anything and everything we’re doing or might do. The second you’re not, it stops.”

“I just… ” she took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves to continue, “I know you’re more experienced than I am, but I guess I didn’t realize it could feel like  _ that  _ and—”

“Who says I’m more experienced than you?”

“I assumed because you’re older and you’re handsome and you’re surrounded by women at the bar all the time...”

“I don’t make it a habit to pick up girls in the bar, if that makes you feel any better,” he said, still stroking her shoulder. “It’s actually been quite some time since I’ve been with anyone.”

“Me, too. And even then, it wasn’t like that.”

“Like what?”

“Mind-numbing. Explosive. A few other words that I can’t seem to find right now,” she blushed and tucked her head further into her elbows.

He reached out to her, moving what he could of her hair off her forehead and tried his best to coax her from her hiding spot.

“There's no need to be embarrassed. I hope you know that.”

Betty looked up at him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears from her anxiety. She figured she'd ruined everything—that her inexperience was such a turn off to him that even if she hadn't changed her mind, he would have.

“Can we maybe just talk instead?” her voice was quiet, still riddled with embarrassment and fear. 

“I would love that. But you have to stop hiding first,” he smiled and it eased her nerves. 

They talked for hours, Betty's embarrassment fading into oblivion and both forgetting the other was naked next to them. 

“Would you mind if I used your bathroom?” Betty asked through a yawn.

Jughead gave her the direction and she went, slinking gracefully out of his bed and tiptoeing to the door. She came back only a few moments later, her phone in hand and new tears in her eyes.

“Hey,” Jughead started, “what's wrong?”

Betty didn't answer, just threw her phone to his bed with a string of texts open. Jughead picked it up and scrolled through the demeaning and condescending messages from  _ Alice Cooper - ICE  _ and he cringed.

“She just showed up to your apartment? And from how this sounds, she's not leaving until you answer the door. Why would she—”

“I told you she was referred to as the dragon. It wasn't for no reason.”

“These messages are from hours ago. Do you think she's still there?”

“Probably. If there's one thing Alice Cooper is good for its keeping her word on threats. I should probably go.” 

Betty started picking up her clothes to get dressed and Jughead followed suit. He slipped his boxers and jeans back on and sat on the edge of the bed fiddling with his socks before she realized what was happening.

“What're you doing?”

“I'm getting dressed so I can take you home. Clearly, you're upset and it's late. I'm not letting you walk back to your apartment like that.”

“Jug, you don't have to—”

“Baby, I want to.”

She hummed to his response. “I like it.” 

He looked at her, confusion painted on his face. 

“When you call me that,” she clarified.

His answering smile was bright. “Good, cause I like calling you that. Now, let's get you home to face the dragon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? I'd love to hear them!
> 
> Find me on tumblr or discord @shrugheadjonesthethird.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! Welcome back for the last part of this fic. I hope you guys have enjoyed it thus far, and I _really_ hope you enjoy this conclusion. 
> 
> Thank you for those who have commented, kudo'd, reblogged, liked (or any other kind of positive acknowledgement). Even those who have read it without those things. I appreciate you more than I can express. 
> 
> Shout out to Alix (psychobetts) and Em (miss-eee) for being amazing human beings and beta'ing this for me and their overall positivity in my life. I love and appreciate you both.

She was more comfortable on the back of his bike this time. She felt the wind on her skin and it was more calming than she anticipated. He pulled up in front of her building just as Alice stepped out of the front door. Betty swung her leg easily off of his bike and removed the helmet he'd provided for her and secured it as he followed her lead.

“Where have you been, Elizabeth?” her mother’s shrill voice rang, breaking the silence of the late hour.

“Out. What are you doing here?” Jughead took a step closer to her, his hand finding the small of her back.

“You weren't returning my calls or texts. I figured something had happened to you.” She turned suddenly finally acknowledging Jughead's presence. “Who the hell are you?”

“Mom this is—”

“Hi, Mrs. Cooper. I'm Jughead. Betty's boyfriend. It's lovely to meet you,” he said extending his hand to shake the elder blonde's. He shot a wink to Betty whose face was painted bright pink.

“No,” Alice said plainly. “My daughter is dating that  _ nice _ boy, Trevor.  _ You  _ are not him.”

“Mom, we broke up over two years ago.”

“Well, I assumed you pulled your head out of your ass and got back together. You were a lovely couple.”

“You remember why we broke up, right? Trev is gay. He doesn't like women.”

“I figured that was what he told you to let you down easy. I don't blame him for breaking up with you, Elizabeth. How could he want to be with someone so unstable? And what is this I hear about you playing music in some ungodly rock band? From Fred Andrews of all people. Now, you're coming back home with me young lady. This place is ruining you.”

Betty stood rooted to her spot on the sidewalk, tears threatening to spill at any moment. Jughead took her hand and squeezed it, reaffirming that he was there with her. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words weren't there.

“Oh, this is ridiculous, Elizabeth. Go upstairs and pack. You're coming home.”

“I am home,” Betty said quietly, but only Jughead heard her.

Alice closed the gap between them and went to grab for Betty's arm before Jughead stepped in front of her, shielding Betty from her mother.

“Excuse me, Jughat. This is no place for you.”

“All due respect, Mrs. Cooper. I may not know how healthy family relationships work, but this certainly isn't it. That is no way to speak to your daughter, who by the way, is astonishing and it really is a shame that you can't see that.”

“Juggie, you don't have to—”

“I can see why she wanted to leave home so badly. You are a terrible woman and I think it would be best if you left. Betty is doing wonderfully on her own. Without you or your help.”

“Why I never,” Alice said taking a step back. 

“Your daughter is beautiful and talented and charming and it's no thanks to you, I'm sure. I am lucky to call her my girlfriend and if you can't see how wonderful she is, there's no place for you in her life. In the life that  _ we're  _ building together. Not if all you want to do is berate her and tear her down. I will  _ not _ stand for it.” 

There was a sense of finality in his voice. No room for rebuttal or extrapolation. Jughead Jones was very much  _ done _ with Alice  _ ‘the Dragon Lady’ _ Cooper.

“If that's what you want, Elizabeth. If you want to spend your time deteriorating in a dive bar with this miscreant, than by all means do that. But don't come crawling back to me when he leaves you like I know he will.”

“Just go, Mom.”

Alice's face contorted at her words, her expression unreadable but somewhere between exasperation and disgust. She turned on a heel and marched herself to her shiny champagne sedan that didn't belong in that particular part of Brooklyn.

It wasn't until they saw her brake lights down the street that Jughead turned back to Betty and whispered, “let's get you upstairs, okay?”

“You didn't have to do that,” Betty said through tears as they walked into her apartment. She laid her keys and bag on the small kitchen table before throwing herself onto the couch in a fit of hysterics.

Jughead joined her, pulling her into his side and stroking at her hair in a way she found comforting. She curled into him and before long, her tears subsided.

“I'm sorry for how tonight turned out.”

Jughead lifted her chin up off his shoulder and kissed her forehead.

“Don't be. It's definitely not the worst first date I've ever been on,” he laughed.

“You didn't have to pretend to be my boyfriend. I know my mother is awful, but it really wasn't necessary to say all that.”

“Well, everything I said, I meant. You are all of those things and more that I couldn’t think of that quickly.” His voice was soft, calming.

“How can you say that? I’ve known you all of, what...two weeks?”

“Yes. But in those two weeks, I have learned more about you than I know about some of my best friends. And I’ve known them nearly my entire life. I know that you’re strong and talented and beautiful and resilient. Do you need me to keep going? Because I can,” he chuckled.

She felt the warmth in her cheeks as he complimented her, still unsure of how to take one properly. 

“And, I’d like to say it’s been a solid back and forth discussion. You know more about me than just about anyone now. So, take that for what it’s worth. Also…”

“What?” Her shoulder dipped slightly against his, nudging him to continue.

“It doesn’t have to be pretend. Maybe I can take you out on a proper date. I think we both know there are some kind of feelings here and not exploring them would be doing ourselves a disservice of epic proportions.”

He was being dramatic, but he certainly wasn’t wrong. Betty felt the flutter in her stomach the moment she looked at him, and it only intensified the longer she spent time with him. It didn’t matter that they had only known each other for a few short weeks. The  _ quality _ of their time was something unmatched in all of Betty’s years. 

“You still want to take me out on a date? This is usually the point that everyone runs away. My mother is a lot to handle.”

“I think I did alright,” he smirked. “Besides, I don’t want to date your mother. I’d rather date you.”

\--

It was Thursday by the time Jughead had convinced Betty he really did want to take her out properly. He told her he’d pick her up at six on the dot.

Betty had already been through her closet twice before deciding she had nothing to wear. Jughead had seen her naked but still, somehow, she was nervous. Maybe it was the fact that she hadn’t been on a real date in a very long time or maybe it was the voice of Alice Cooper still reverberating in the recesses of her mind telling her she wasn’t good enough.

She raked through her closest again, landing on a heather gray skater dress that cut to just above her knee. The skirt flared perfectly and in the most flattering way as she spun around to find her tall black boots to wear with it. She paired the dress with a denim jacket and inspected herself one last time before traipsing off to the bathroom to finish her hair and makeup.

She wore it down in loose waves that framed her face. She applied a light coat of mascara and just enough liner and shadow to make her emerald eyes shine brighter than usual.

Her phone chimed on the counter next to her:  _ Jughead Jones - 1 New Message _ .

She felt the flutter in her chest as she opened up the text saying he was there and on his way up. She gave one last primp to her hair and walked out of the bathroom to him knocking at her door. Betty took a few deep breaths as she made her way to the door, securing her boot as she did. 

She opened the door to find her date for the night, dressed in a navy button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and suspenders draping over his shoulders. She blinked a few times, trying to remember the vision in front of her was in fact real.

“Hey,” she said lamely.

“Hey baby,” he winked, “you look gorgeous.” He leaned in and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek.

Betty ushered him in and offered him a drink, which he refused, as she gathered her purse and keys. 

He didn’t have his motorcycle, to Betty’s surprise, but an old beat up pickup truck. He opened the door for her and as she settled in closed it before hopping into the driver’s seat.

It was a perfect date by all accounts. A quiet dinner across town at a small hole in the wall diner, complete with burgers and milkshakes. It reminded her of Pop’s, she’d even said as much. 

He smiled because he knew. He told her he’d done some research in their few days apart and he wanted to bring her that small piece of home, the piece that didn’t riddle her with anxiety. They forewent the truck and walked a while, hand in hand down the busy streets of Brooklyn.

Betty would lean into his side and his arm came around her shoulder easily as he dropped a kiss to the top of her head. They talked and laughed and by the time they got back to the truck, it was nearing midnight.

“Nightcap at my place?” Jughead suggested, his hand squeezing hers gently. “If you’re up for it maybe stay the night? I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to wake up next to you.”

“Sounds perfect. But can we stop by my place so I can grab a few things?”

\--

“I’ll only be a few minutes,” she said as she left him waiting in the living room. 

Betty ran to her bedroom and started gathering anything she could possibly need for her night away from the apartment. She stood in the middle of her bedroom with her hands on her hips as she contemplated what the next day could bring. 

She gathered an extra set of undergarments, a change of clothing and her small travel toiletry bag she kept packed in her closet for when Veronica dragged her away on a moment’s notice. She ran down a mental checklist as she stuffed it all into her old cheerleading bag.

_ Spare clothes. Toothbrush. Deodorant. Keys and purse are in the kitchen. _ She nodded her head successfully and zipped the bag shut. 

She closed her bedroom door behind her and walked back to meet Jughead, who to her surprise was standing with her violin case over his shoulder. She looked at him quizzically, her head tilted to the side.

“You have a gig tomorrow. Thought I’d grab it. Y’know, just in case,” he winked.

Betty felt the warmth on her cheeks before she heard his answering chuckle to her bodily reaction. She supposed he had a point.

She veered to the kitchen to grab her keys and bag, sprinkled a small amount of food on top of her goldfish’s bowl, and joined her date at the front door.

“River Vixens? Dance team?”

“Cheerleading.”

“Well, I might just have to save that fun fact for a rainy day,” he teased. 

Betty pushed him out the door, flicked the lights and locked the door behind her.

The ride to his apartment she was familiar with. It was a straight shot down her street, at the light turn left and voila, The Whyte Wyrm. He parked the truck and walked up the back staircase three flights to his apartment.

She’d been there before, but her nerves were getting the better of her again. The last time she was there, she was overwhelmed in pleasure, then immediately brought down a few pegs with scathing messages from her mother. She shook the thought from her head and told herself it was a new night with new possibilities. What’s past is past, right?

She heard the door close behind her and Jughead took the bag from her hand and placed it down next to the door. They kicked off their shoes and settled into the couch, her firmly tucked into his side.

Jughead’s arms were lazily drawing patterns down her arm as they watched whatever came on the television. 

“You do not strike me as a retro game show kind of guy,” she laughed into his shoulder. 

“These are classic, baby.”

“Okay. Whatever you say,” she mocked, rolling her eyes in the most teasing way possible. 

Before she could register what was happening, she was being thrown over Jughead’s shoulder and walked into another room. She playfully slapped at him anywhere she could reach, laughing the entire time until she was plopped down onto something soft.

He was on top of her quickly, between her legs and tickling at her ribcage. 

“Juggie, stop!” she laughed uncontrollably, trying to flail, but under his weight, she wasn’t going anywhere.

“Are you going to stop mocking me for my television choices?” He asked, still assaulting her sides with his fingers.

“I wasn’t—I wasn’t mocking,” she breathed. “Okay, okay, I was! I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she laughed. 

He dropped to his forearms, bracketing her head between them.

“Good,” he said as her breath fanned across his face. Their eyes connected and his lips were on hers. 

It didn’t start lazy like most of their kisses did. It wasn’t hurried, per se, but there was intention—fire—behind it. He moved his hand to her face, brushing her hair behind her ear as he rolled them on their sides. 

They stayed there for a while, exploring each other again like it was the first time. He broke first, beginning to trail wet open mouth kisses down her neck. She didn’t mean for the moan that escaped her lips to sounds so desperate, but it was and she was. She still felt guilty about leaving him high and dry on their last rendezvous and there was no way she was going to let it happen again.

His kisses continued to her collarbone, his tongue swiping at it to soothe the nip he’d taken seconds before. She writhed beside him, trying to find a better angle to quell the dull ache building at her core. One leg hitched over his, where she found the friction of his jeans that would suffice for the time being.

He continued his assault at her neck, slowly drawing down to her chest as his hand slowly gripped at her thigh. Her hips involuntarily rolled toward his.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he whispered at her chest, halting his movements. 

She sucked in a deep breath. “You.” 

His hands pushed and pulled at her dress until it was finally over her head. He tossed it to the side, leaving her laying in yet another matching set of undergarments. This time, instead of the pale pink lace, he was faced with black with white hearts, trimmed with frills, a bow in the middle, perfectly centered between her breasts. He groaned at the sight.

He pulled her on top of him and shucked his shirt as quickly as he could. Her hands instinctively traced his tattoos and his eyes fluttered shut at the gentleness of her touch. His hands were at her hips, gripping at the skin above the trim of her panties, letting her get acclimated. 

Betty stretched her arms over her head and gathered her hair to put it in a sloppy-at-best ponytail. She reached behind her and undid the clasp at her bra, letting it fall onto Jughead unceremoniously. She watched as his eyes flickered from hers, to her lips down to her already taut nipples and back up again. He licked his lips in anticipation.

His hands followed the curves of her waist up to her exposed breasts and rolled her nipples gently between his thumb and forefinger. Her hips rolled against his very evident erection and he groaned again. Betty’s hands dragged down his stomach and to his belt and undid the buckle. She popped the button and palmed him over his pants. 

She was on her back the next second, Jughead propped between her legs, his pants now low enough for him to kick off with only a slight struggle. Betty’s hands went to the elastic at his boxers, but he stopped her with a gentle hand on the wrist.

“Please,” she nearly begged.

He nodded his head and let her continue her exploration. She slid her hands beneath the cotton of his boxers and ran her nails over his ass, effectively pulling him into her, providing a blissful pressure every place she wanted it. She pushed them down and he kicked them off. He fingered the lace edging of her panties and looked down into her darkened green eyes.

“If it’s too much, you’ll tell me?”

Betty nodded.

“Say it,” he insisted.

“I’ll tell you,” she whispered, her body nearly shaking in anticipation.

He traced the seam of her panties before pulling them down her thighs, picking her knees up to get them all the way off. Her legs settled around him again and he kissed her—hot, wet, bruising.

He started his descent down her body and she writhed and gasped with each kiss and nibble along the way. He landed just below her bellybutton  and looked up to find her watching him. He slowed down, keeping intense eye contact.

His lips ghosted across her clit and her breath sputtered. A careful flick of his tongue and she whimpered. He brought his fingers up to her entrance and pushed a finger in just as he secured his lips around her bundle.

If he could record the noise that came out of her mouth at that exact second, he would. It would likely be playing on repeat in his mind for weeks to come. He hummed against her clit and her hips bucked up.

He pulled the finger from her and lapped up the juices before plunging two back into her. 

“Do you know how good you taste, baby? It’s a shame no one else has ever gotten to try,” he groaned before diving back in.

Her hands pushed into his hair—she was no longer able to keep eye contact with him. It was all too much. She felt her toes start to curl as his fingers pumped and his tongue swirled around her. 

“Juggie, I—” she started, but her words were overtaken by moans as she came on his tongue, his fingers still pumping into her. She gripped at his hair, pulling him from between her legs to her mouth.

She didn’t care that she could taste herself on his tongue, if anything it spurred her on. The kisses were sloppy, staggered before she released him and tried to catch her breath. He rocked his hips slowly to hers, not wanting a repeat of their last encounter. 

Her hands were still in his hair, fingers dancing through the strands as he lowered himself to her chest and took a nipple in his mouth. She arched into his touch keeping his head there, guiding him with her hands.

His cock nudged at her clit and she gasped again, still sensitive from her first orgasm. She was overwhelmed again, but determined to power through. She wanted this and she knew he did, too.

Nipple still in his mouth, he flipped them, and pulled Betty to straddle him again. She leaned down to kiss his forehead as he continued to lave at her chest. She rolled herself against his cock and groaned.

“You like the way my cock feels against you, baby?”

This was something altogether new to her. She’d never been with someone so vocal, but she liked it. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to respond, the entire experience something out of her realm of possibility. 

He looked up at her when she was quiet for a while, he pulled his forehead to hers.

“Too much?”

Betty giggled nervously. He was cute when he got worried he did something wrong.

“Just new for me, that’s all. I don’t  _ not _ like it.” She blushed.

Jughead shut his eyes, trying to focus on the smooth skin beneath his hands instead of the idiots that ever let this wonderful creature go willingly. 

“You’re okay? Not overwhelmed this time?”

She kissed him gently, “I am, but it’s okay. It’s the good kind of overwhelmed,” she whispered at his lips.

She felt him nudge at her again, this time, she sat up and onto her knees, she reached between them, feeling his hard length beneath her fingertips and lined herself against it. She lowered herself gently down, reveling in the feel of him finally inside of her. If his face was any indication, he was feeling the same way.

She rolled her hips experimentally. His eyes sprung open and zeroed in on hers. She did it again and watched his mouth drop open. His hips met hers and they found a steady rhythm. The room was filled with the echoes of bated breath and lingering moans as they kept their pace. 

Watching her on top of him was better than he imagined it would be. The slick sheen of sweat, her golden hair mussed and tousled, her chest bouncing as he thrust into her—it was a miracle he lasted as long as he was. He knew it wouldn’t be much longer for her either, he could feel her thighs clench at his sides, her breathing more labored, the roll of her eyes as she threw her head back.

He flipped them again, her legs wrapped around his waist and hands in her hair, his name dripping from her lips. He felt her walls tighten around him, the crescendo of her voice as he lost control of his thrusts. He reached between them, his thumb circling her clit with just enough pressure to send her over the edge. He thrust into her until he couldn’t anymore and pulled out of her, spilling across her stomach.

His hands gripped her knees to steady himself before he fell on top of her. He watched the steady rise and fall of her chest, the flush of her skin coated in a mixture of their sweat and juices. He reached for the closest thing to clean the mess up with and found a tshirt just out of his grasp. He leaned to get it and promptly swiped at her skin to clean her up.

When she was sure she could, Betty stood from the bed and made her way to the bathroom. She returned with her hair fixed from the mess it had become and a smile on her face.

Jughead patted the bed next to him, “this is my favorite part,” he said as Betty sat back on the bed.

He pulled her into his side, her head resting at the crook of his shoulder and her arm coming across his stomach. She hummed in contentment. Betty gripped for the blankets to cover their ravished bodies and snuggled further into his side.

She traced hapless patterns across his chest and down his stomach idly. She was still attempting to calm herself down. She wasn’t kidding when she said she was overwhelmed by him, by them together. It was more than she’d ever hoped it to be, more than she’d ever experienced before. But as she felt her eyes begin to close, she felt the words at the tip of her tongue.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, her voice shrouded in sleep.

“What doesn’t matter, baby?” he whispered as he kissed the top of her head.

“That we’ve only known each other a few weeks.”

“I know. I said that a few days ago.”

But she was asleep before she could respond. Her eyes had fallen shut and she was out cold.

Jughead stayed awake a short while longer, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest. She was peaceful, relaxed in a way he’d never seen her, more beautiful than he could imagine. And she was there, with him, in his arms. He smiled to himself, thanking his lucky stars for the life that lead him to her. 

\--

She woke the next morning to soft kisses on the back of her neck and a wandering head across her stomach. Betty pushed back into the hard plain of his chest and smiled.

“Good morning,” she said as her eyes fluttered open.

“Hi,” he said scratching at her stomach. “Did I wake you up?”

“No. What time is it?”

“Nearly twelve.”

Betty shot up out of bed. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so long. Her morning routine was ruined. Then she relaxed back into his arms, realizing that she didn’t need to keep that routine, she was only doing it to fill the gaps of time when she wasn’t sleeping anyway.

“Something wrong?”

“No. Nothing is wrong,” she said honestly. 

He nudged her over and looked at her, hair splayed across his pillow, evidence of their tryst on her collarbones and he smiled. He leaned in to kiss her, but she pulled back.

“Let me at least brush my teeth first,” she said covering her mouth, which she was sure was less than appetizing. 

Jughead laughed and kissed her forehead. “Fine, but come back quick. I wanna finish the conversation we started last night before you fell asleep on me.”

Betty looked at him, head cocked to the side and eyebrows furrowed. She didn’t recall an unfinished conversation. She padded out of his room to the living room to gather her bag, brushed her teeth and rejoined Jughead in bed.

She pulled herself under the blankets again and settled in facing Jughead. Her heart was racing, she didn’t know what conversation they had started and where it would lead. 

“So, you said something last night and I wanted some clarification,” he said tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

“What did I say? I don’t really remember.” Her eyes cast down to where her hand was lying between them. Jughead threaded his fingers through hers.

“You said, ‘it doesn’t matter that we’ve only know each other a few weeks’,” he grazed his thumb over her knuckles. 

Her face reddened in recognition. She thought she’d dreamed it, but apparently not. In her twilight state just before sleep, it must have just rolled off of her tongue.

“You fell asleep before saying anything else.”

Betty took a deep breath. “I had a really great time with you last night,” she said sheepishly.

“But?” He was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“No. No but.”

“Than why does it feel like there’s something else,” he asked nervously.

“Because it isn’t exactly an easy thing to just come right out and say you have feelings for someone.”

Jughead’s eyes widened, the blue swimming with something that looked a lot like hope mixed with sheer happiness.

“What if we did this for real?”

Jughead let out the breath he’d inadvertently been holding since he thought there was going to be a backfire. 

“But you said—”

“I know what I said, and I changed my mind. I think there’s still a lot we don’t know about each other, but that doesn’t mean it should hold us back, right?” 

“So, what are you trying to say?”

Betty sat up slowly, dragging the sheet with her to cover her chest and took a few steadying breaths.

“What I’m saying is, what if we feel this out. See what it could be?”

“Why, Miss Cooper, are you asking me out?”

“If you still want to.”

He lurched forward and kissed her, a knee-jerk reaction, sure, but one he’d never regret. 

\--

They spent the afternoon together watching retro game shows and to Betty’s surprise, she didn’t hate it. Of course he mocked her, but she would take it if it meant seeing that gorgeous smile of his. 

Jughead had ventured out to get them lunch at one point and Betty took that time to shower and get herself ready for her gig that evening. It was a good thing Jughead had suggested grabbing her violin from the apartment before she left. 

She was just finishing pulling her undergarments on when he walked back through the door.

“Now this is a sight I can get used to,” he winked as he leaned against the door jam watching her mill about getting dressed.

“I’m almost dressed. I’ll be out in a minute,” she laughed pulling her black dress from her cheer bag and slipping it over her shoulders. She combed her fingers through her hair as she watched Jughead retreat from the doorway from the corner of her eye. 

She went back to her cheer bag and rummaged around looking for her sweater but was in no such luck. She swore under her breath and dropped her hands to her side slapping her thighs in frustration.

Betty walked to Jughead’s open closet door and pulled one of his infinite number of flannels from a hanger and secured it over her shoulders. She hadn’t seen him wear this particular red and black one before, but it was warm, soft and smelled like a mixture of laundry and his cologne. 

She walked back to meet him in the living room where he’d set up their lunch on the coffee table. He was setting down two water bottles when he looked up and the breath was knocked from his lungs.

“I take it back, this might be better than walking in on you in your underwear,” he winked.

“I hope you don’t mind. I forgot my sweater and denim doesn’t work well for me on stage,” she shrugged. 

“It looks better on you anyway,” he said in the most serious tone. “I like it.”

She had it tied around her waist, the excess hanging. It framed her chest perfectly, drew his eyes straight to it, much to his dismay. Because if it did that to him, it would happen with other men once they went downstairs. He shook the thought from his head and patted the seat next to him for her to join.

They sat and ate, making small talk and stealing kisses between bites of their sandwiches. Before they knew it, it was time to go downstairs and open the bar. They made their way down and to their surprise, Fangs and Sweet Pea were already there setting up the sound equipment. 

Betty and Jughead didn’t pay too much mind to the other pair as they started taking chairs down, speaking in a hushed tones and giggling. 

It was the giggling that caught Fangs’ attention. He looked up from his amp and he noticed immediately. Betty’s hands were braced on the edge of a table, Jughead whispering something in her ear and the slight blush on her face. 

“What’s funny?” He asked, brushing off his hands, a knowing smirk on his lips.

“Nothing you need to worry about, bud,” Jughead said before leaning and kissing Betty’s cheek and walking behind the bar to start prep.

Betty pulled her violin case from its spot behind the bar and she began to tune it carefully, but not without Fang’s wandering eye on her following her around the bar.

“Something wrong, Fangs?” Betty asked while putting the finishing touches on her tuning.

He hopped down off the stage and approached Betty. 

“You haven’t stopped smiling since you walked in.”

“Is happiness a problem for you?” she asked arching her brow.

Fangs noiselessly chuckled. “Would bossman have anything to do with that?”

“And so what if he did. That wouldn’t be any of your business,” she said placing her violin back in the case and snapping it shut.

“All I’m saying is I haven’t seen a smile on his face in years. So whatever you’re doing. Keep it up,” he winked. “And that’s his favorite flannel. He wouldn’t let just  _ anyone _ wear it.”

She blushed forgetting what she was wearing was his. She looked down and smoothed the collar. 

\--

Before long, it was time for the gig to begin. Each member took the stage and began to play. Betty lost herself in the music, dancing around more than usual. Her eyes found Jughead; he was already watching her, eyes on her hips as they moved more than usual to the music. 

At the end of their first set, she sent him a wink and her smile never broke. If her fellow Serpents noticed her extra movement, they didn't mention it.

She hopped off the stage, attempting to refill her water glass when she was stopped by Tall Boy, the man from her first night there.

“I could watch those hips move all night,” he slurred.

“Lucky for you, we have another set coming up in a half hour,” she smiled sweetly, trying to deflect his innuendo.

She went to walk away but he took her by the wrist again.

“Let me buy you a drink, sweetheart,” he pressed.

“No thank you, Tall Boy,” she smiled again, her eyes looking over his head to find Jughead, but he was nowhere to be found. 

Betty's heart began to race. She was getting overwhelmed and her brain began to fluster. Just then, Sweet Pea stepped in, tall and menacing over her shoulder.

“She said no. Back off,” he sneered.

“Princess your girl or something?” He stumbled back but straightened himself proper to stand up to Sweet Pea again.

Sweet Pea snickered. “It's not me you have to worry about.”

“If she ain't your girl, than I don't see a problem,” he smiled, revealing the teeth rotting out of his mouth as he tried to pull Betty closer to him.

“That's where you're wrong,” Betty heard from behind her. Jughead stepped in between her and a very drunk Tall Boy.

“Oh, c'mon, Jones. Why are you always cockblocking me? I'm just trying to get to know the new girl better,” he whispered to Jughead a little louder than he probably intended.

“She's rejected you twice. Why not take the hint? Besides, this is  _ my _ bar. I wouldn't want anyone uncomfortable here. And…”

Jughead could feel two sets of eyes on him.

“And what, boy?”

“She's  _ my _ girl,” he said confidently, reaching behind him for her hand. He placed their fingers and he squeezed. He let go quickly, placing that same hand on Tall Boy's shoulder and escorting him out threatening to call the cops if he didn't stay away for a while.

Betty turned to Sweet Pea and smiled.

“You didn't have to step in. I'm sure I would have been fine,” she said toying with the straw in her glass.

“A Serpent never stands alone,” he shrugged as if it was obvious.

Betty looked at him with an endearing look in her eye. She placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you, Pea.”

He nodded back, heading back to the stage and Betty followed suit.

\--

They played their set and ended in thunderous applause just as they had the two weeks before. They took their final bow and Betty was off to her usual seat at the bar when she was stopped by a hand at the wrist and a soft timber in her ear.

“You played great tonight, baby. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you,” Jughead said running his hands down her hips.

A smile burst across her face as she turned around and threw her arms over his shoulders. He kissed her forehead before bypassing her lips and going straight for her neck.

“Jug,” she breathed. “I don’t think this is, um, appropriate,” she tried to stammer.

“My place and I say its just fine,” he said sinking his teeth into her neck again.

He let her go with a pop, took her by the hand and spun her around, right there in the middle of the bar. 

“Besides, I think everyone needs to know you're spoken for so they don't get any funny ideas. I'm sorry about Tall Boy.” He continued as they danced to the music that had switched on after the Serpents set was over. He pulled her in for a long and thorough kiss.

Jughead didn’t care that everyone was staring at them. He didn’t care who saw the smile that replaced the almost permanent scowl on his face. He was happy for the first time in a long time and nothing was going to take that from him.

Betty stared up at Jughead, her hands around his waist, pulling away from his hug. She looked around the bar seeing Fangs, Sweet Pea and Dagger milling about, smiles plastered to their faces. Her mind wandered back to how different her life was just two weeks before.

Now she could say for certain that answering that ad was the best decision she'd ever made. It had only been two weeks, but she could feel the shift in her life. She could feel the happiness deep in her bones.

Without her spontaneous actions, she would never have met Jughead, she wouldn't be standing in the middle of this dive bar and she wouldn't have found herself as a member of this fierce family known as the Southside Serpents. 

Most importantly, she certainly wouldn't be well on her way to falling in love.

**Author's Note:**

> Song sung by Fangs in this chapter is Ants Marching by Dave Matthews Band.  
> \--  
> Let me know what you think! I love to hear from you! <3


End file.
